Tuesday, 4 August 2015

Just like many other mothers out there, I am aware that there appears to be some kind of divide between my middle boy and my youngest daughter.

I initially thought that divide may just be to do with the 22 months between them. Having sought advice from countless books and online "experts" I concluded that said divide was more to do with middle child envy of a newcomer to the family, and that they will "grow out of it."

Seven years later, after countless ups and downs, I feel I may have to reject my initial hypothesis.

Although my theory was based on a huge body of evidence supporting the proposition, I have finally conceded that this may have been, at the very least, an optimistic viewpoint.

It's funny. How evidence can be staring you right in the face for all that time. Until it does, one day, literally stare you in the face.

Ex Mr G and I were queuing up to say goodbye to middle son's teacher. It was mainly for show, as middle son is moving to a different school, but youngest daughter will still be at the same school. We will still see middle son's teacher. Daily. Bit of a shame as I think he's a prick. But we still queued up anyway to say our thanks and goodbyes.

As I was languorously leaning against the wall outside the classroom (this sounds sexy, but really isn't) waiting for our turn to say heartfelt "goodbyes" to Mr Prick, I noticed the pin board I was propping myself up on. It appealed to me in a Save the Children kind of Comic Relief "charity" way, as the big handwritten bubble font sign said: "The Diary of a Refugee."

I thought I may start to read the different entries. Languorously. To match my pose.

Then I saw the blu-tacked entry, stuck on the wall, written by middle son. I knew immediately it was his work due to:

a) the appalling spelling
b) the terrible grammar
c) the fact he had dogs and a sister called Gracie.
d) his name was at the top of the piece of paper

At that moment, I knew. Those books I read? They know NOTHING. My son just FICTIONED OUT his sister.